


You're Here Safe in My Heart

by harriet_vane



Series: girl!direction porn with feelings [4]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Coda, F/M, Genderswap, Schmoop, always a girl Liam, always a girl zayn, cis girl Liam Payne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 17:33:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3258425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harriet_vane/pseuds/harriet_vane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anon on tumblr asked: "Would you do a time stamp for the girl!Liam/Harry fic? I'd take anything. maybe of the future puppy? Or re-meeting the parents??" This is neither of those, sorry.</p><p>Harry tries to ask Liam a question. (Or: Almost unbearable schmoop.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Here Safe in My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> The fourth and last part of this story. Too long to be a coda, not long enough to be its own fic, oh well. Thanks to anon on tumblr for asking, because I love this particular set of fics very much. Thanks to Sunsetmog for reminding me to say holiday and knickers instead of vacation and panties. Thanks to Harry for the terrible puns and artsy Instagram. 
> 
> If anyone was wondering, all the titles for this series came from songs from All Dogs Go To Heaven. Blame Liam for making me think of sunshine and puppies.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Standard disclaimer applies: It's not meant to be about or imply anything about these actual people, just fictionalized versions of their public personas, ie, if Sorkin got to write a movie about Mark Zuckerberg, I get to write this fic. Please don't post this fic anywhere else, please don't distribute it anywhere, please don't put it on goodreads, and really really please don't link it to anyone being written about here. Thanks!

Harry likes to take pictures of Liam’s knee, or her earlobe, or her drawer full of scarves, and Instagram them. Sometimes he doesn’t put any caption underneath them, or sometimes he’ll just write _polka dots_ or _favorite_ or _heads shoulders (…) and toes_.

“I don’t understand you,” Liam says fondly, when she checks her phone. She only follows two people on Instagram, him and Niall. “No one wants to see my knee, Harry.”

“Everyone wants to see your knee,” Harry says, with a slow grin. “I’ve got the likes to prove it.”

Liam makes a hilarious scoffing noise and goes back to doing sit ups on the floor.

Living together isn’t really new anymore. Harry’s got a flat, it’s all decorated and set up and everything, but he never stays there, because he much prefers Liam’s. Hers has food in the fridge and big lovely windows and also the bed always has Liam in it at night. 

They haven’t moved in together, exactly. Harry just hasn’t gone home in a year. It’s been two weeks since the last tour finished, with two more glorious weeks off, and all Harry wants to do is lie around with Liam all day. Liam, naturally, is doing sit ups. 

“D’you fancy dinner?” Harry asks. “We could go out.”

“We’ll have to call Paddy, then,” Liam says. “Twenty-six. Twenty-seven. Twenty—“

“We could fly to L.A.,” Harry says.

Liam pauses at the top of her next sit up and stares at him. She’s got a light sheen of sweat on her forehead. Harry’s been going to yoga with her in the mornings. “Like, go to L.A. for dinner? Seems a bit extreme.”

“Maybe,” says Harry. He hasn’t thought this through. “Like, a little holiday. We can go to L.A. and I’ll rent a motorcycle and you can rent a convertible and we’ll drive down the PCH and go to really hip bars and hang out with rock stars. And get dinner.”

Liam’s just looking at him. Harry’s tired of being cooped up in London; he’s gone out with Nick, he’s gone out with Ben, he’s gone out with Liam. He’s done everything there is to do in London, including dinner with his family and Liam’s, where Gemma sat with Ruth and they conspired in a frankly terrifying way. 

“Do you mean as an anniversary thing?” Liam asks.

Harry scrunches up his face. It’s not their first anniversary, they were on tour and they went up the Eiffel Tower and took a blurry selfie in black and white. “Is there such a thing as a fourteen month anniversary?”

“I don’t know, you’re the one who keeps track of it all,” Liam says. “Fourteen months? Really?”

“You’re not bored of me, are you?” Harry asks. The tiniest spark of panic zips through his chest. 

Liam goes down for her next sit up and when she comes back up she leans over and kisses him. “Who could get tired of Harry Styles?” she asks fondly. 

“You better not,” says Harry, pretending to scowl. “Liam, let’s go to L.A., for real. We haven’t got tour rehearsals until the week after next. We can go to the beach. I’ll go surfing with you. We can see the sea.” 

Liam giggles. “You know what?” she says. “Okay. Let’s go to L.A. Let’s get a hotel that looks over the sea and eat overpriced sushi and walk on the beach in bare feet. We don’t get to go on holiday together much. Just a spontaneous holiday, yeah? Nothing special, just fun.” She smiles at him, a big goofy smile that makes his heart flip over. “I’m going to shower. If you want to do this, you call Paddy and everyone and arrange it, okay?” She kisses him again, fond and warm. Then she pads out of the room in bare feet.

Harry’s hands are shaking. He hadn’t planned anything, honest he hadn’t, but when he thinks about leaning out on a balcony by the sea with Liam, with his arm around her and the sun setting and the sea breeze in his face, and moving all his things into her flat like he has, and spending months and months more on the road with her… Well.

He picks up his phone and calls Louis. 

“What?” Louis says. “I’m on holiday from you. You better not be calling to tell me you’ve just had sex with Liam. I’ll be sick.”

“I think I’m gonna propose,” Harry says.

There’s a silence. Harry doesn’t know what else to say. His heart is banging in his chest like anything.

“Jesus, really?” Louis says. “Of course you are. Have you got a ring?”

“…no,” Harry says. He looks around the flat. Maybe there’s a sandwich bag tie or something he could pick up to give to Liam. It’d be quirky.

“Well you need a ring, you fucking idiot,” says Louis. “Caroline will know what size she is. Do you know what sort of thing she’d like, or should I call Zayn?”

A ring makes it all real. “I just thought of it,” Harry says. “I don’t have a plan. Louis, do you think she’ll say yes?”

“Yes,” says Louis. “She’s put up with you this long, hasn’t she? Seriously, Harry. She loves you, and Liam wants to be a mum and a wife more than she wants anything except another world tour. I’d bet money your mums have already started making secret plans.”

“Hmm,” says Harry. His mum was with sitting Karen the other night, crying about _something_. “No bet. We’re going to go on holiday and I’m going to ask her. That way if she says no, I can drown myself instead of coming back.”

“You’re such a numpty,” says Louis. “Plan something big and romantic. Liam likes big and romantic.”

“Parades,” Harry says. “Hot air balloons. Elephants.”

“Stop writing a poem about your dream and think about Liam,” Louis says. “Call her dad. She’d like that kind of thing.”

“Oh,” says Harry. “Yeah, she would. Um, I think you were joking before but please do ring Zayn and ask her about what sort of ring Liam likes, okay? I’ve got an idea, but like. You know. Girls.”

“I’ll plan the party,” Louis says.

“Yeah,” says Harry. “Wait, what party?”

“The celebratory one you’re going to throw with all of us there to celebrate your engagement, obviously,” says Louis. 

“Oh,” says Harry. “Yeah, good idea I had about that party. Thanks for setting it up.”

Louis scoffs even louder than Liam had earlier and rings off. 

\--

It takes a little doing to arrange a trip for the two of them. Harry or Liam on their own could travel relatively easily, just a bit of security and planning. Together, though, they always seem to cause a fuss. Harry is getting used to seeing his picture splashed on the front page of newspapers; whenever he hangs out with anyone the headline is CHEATING ON LIAM?!? And when she ventures out of the house on her own it’s something like HEARTBROKEN LIAM TELLS HARRY THIS IS HIS LAST CHANCE. Harry doesn’t mind those so much as the headlines that imply Liam keeps letting him cheat and then come back, like she’s some sort of doormat. As if she wouldn’t punch him in the balls. 

Anyway the whole thing ends up being complicated, so they can’t go the next day. That’s fine; Liam needs a couple of days to pack and Harry needs a couple of days to sneak out and meet with Zayn and talk about rings. 

Zayn’s shaved one side of her head and left her hair long on the other side, and it looks fucking amazing. “Are you serious?” she asks. Her face is casual but her tone isn’t.

“I wouldn’t ask Liam to marry me as a joke, no,” Harry says. He pouts a little; why doesn’t anyone believe him? 

“Just saying,” says Zayn. She’s smoking and she blows out a long puff of cigarette smoke before she shrugs. “Anyway, Liam’s going to want the most ostentatious, princessy ring in the whole world, of course.” 

“What if I got her, like, one of them ring pop sweets, as a joke?” 

The look Zayn gives him could turn lava to ice. “No,” she says. “For Liam, you go all-out with the romance.”

Harry doesn’t point out that he’s been sleeping with Liam for over a year now, thank you very much, and Liam thinks his jokes are _funny_ , unlike some people. “I know,” he says. “Was thinking I’d take her to Disneyland. I can propose at the castle or something.” 

“Revolting,” says Zayn, and then, “She’d love that.”

“Yeah,” says Harry. It’s all the cheesy, silly things about Liam that make him feel a little bit like he’s melting in the middle. She’s so determined and sweet and silly and terrifyingly fragile and tough as nails, all at once. And she gives all of that to everyone; to the fans, to interviewers, to anyone who asks. 

Harry likes to think of himself as an enigma. Anyone can have anything they like from him, except his actual self. They’ve tried to pin him down so many times now that he’s publicly dating Liam – is he finally Proper Boyfriend Material Settled Harry Styles? Or is this a phase? Is he cheating every night as he goes through his real rock star lifestyle? Is he breaking her heart or has she tamed the wild beast? 

Liam’s so easy to read. Everyone knows that _she’s_ in love and committed to making it a proper relationship, but no one in the US or England seems to want them to be happy together. It’s not good headlines, is it, Harry thinks resignedly. And this’ll just be another news cycle of nonsense. Is the proposal his last ditch chance to make it work? Or has he knocked her up? Did she give him an ultimatum or is it management trying to hide his affair with Louis? 

“It’s all rubbish,” he says aloud to Zayn. “Let’s go get a ring that’s so glittery you can see it from space.”

“Where does Liam think you are right now?” Zayn asks. She drops her cigarette and stubs it out with the toe of her Doc Martin. 

“Oh, out. Said I had things to do,” Harry says. “S’okay. She’s trying to decide if four bikinis is too many for a week, and which one’s going to look best splashed across the front page of The Sun.” 

“She should call Taylor. Taylor’s always got the best swimming costumes,” Zayn says. Security has arranged for them to go in the back door of a really posh jewelry shop. Harry hasn’t got much hope that it won’t end up on Twitter anyway, but it’s not like he doesn’t buy himself ridiculously expensive jewelry all the time.

\-- 

Harry keeps the ring in his pocket, because he’s not sure when the perfect moment is going to be. It’s not the morning on the way to the airport; Liam’s tired and grumpy because they get papped leaving her flat and at the airport. “And my hair looks awful,” she complains. 

Harry squeezes her hand and smiles at the photographers. There are always pictures of them, no matter where they go – food shopping, jogging, just out to the car. It’s a little exhausting. 

It’s better when they get on the plane. “I’m gonna nap on your shoulder,” Liam announces, curling up against him. Harry pulls the blanket over the two of them as the engine starts up. 

This is a good time, he thinks, running his hand through Liam’s curls. But maybe she couldn’t hear him over the noise of the planet. Maybe he should wait until they’re at Disneyland for real. Or the hotel. Or the beach. He can’t decide. His stomach flips and flops and he still hasn’t even called Geoff. 

When the plane lands, Harry thinks. He’ll call her dad then, while Liam’s setting up the hotel room. The ring in his pocket is pressing its sharp edges into his thigh through the pocket of his jeans. He’s amazed she hasn’t noticed it yet, as tight as his jeans are.

“Love going on holiday with you,” Liam sighs. 

“Yeah,” Harry says. Her eyes are closed already. As the plane takes off he mouths _Will you marry me?_ just to try it on for size and see if he can say it. Rubbish, he thinks. He can come up with something better.

\--

There are always photographers at LAX but they aren’t nearly as interested as the ones at Heathrow. “I want to go surfing,” Liam says immediately. It’s warm and sunny and California always smells like haze and suncream to Harry.

“I thought we decided you were going to wait for Louis to get here before you went surfing,” Harry says. “Let’s rent a convertible and drive around town surprising people.”

She laughs. He likes the way she holds his hand, like she’s keeping track of him. Liam’s got a scarf in her hair, and sunglasses on, and he feels a little like Richard Burton, walking Elizabeth Taylor across the car park, surrounded by flashbulbs. Of course, Liz would have been wearing a to-die-for dress and huge diamonds, not skinny jeans and an enormous lightweight jumper. But there’s always something charmingly old-fashioned at Liam. She owns an apron for when she cooks, and it’s not one of those cheesy, joking, kiss-the-cook ones. 

“I don’t care what we do, as long as we’re together,” Harry says.

Liam gives him that look he loves, the one where she’s trying not to laugh at him, but really she thinks he’s wonderful. “You’re ridiculous,” she says. 

“We’re going to have so much holiday sex at the hotel,” Harry replies with a lazy grin.

She puts her chin up just a little, smiling but going pink around the edges. “Yes,” she says. “Of course. That’s the whole point.”

She’s straightforward and embarrassed at the same time. “I love you,” Harry says, in case she’s forgotten in the last five minutes.

“Mmhhmm,” says Liam primly, but in the car she straddles his lap and they kiss while they’re waiting at endless traffic lights. When traffic is moving she wears her seat belt, of course.

\--

“We’ve been in a lot of hotels,” Harry says, pushing open the doors out to the balcony overlooking the ocean. “ _This_ is a hotel.”

“They’re all hotels,” Liam says. “But this one’s got champagne and a balcony.”

He could propose right now, Harry thinks. The sun is setting over the ocean, and the air is sharp but warm. He can hear the noises, gently, of people on the beach far away below them. Everything is white and gauzy and lovely and Liam’s changed into a long summery dress with her hair up in one of those things girls do that Harry can never get his hair to do no matter how long it is. Lou laughs at him sometimes. 

“I like this hotel,” Harry says. “It’s got you.”

She rolls her eyes but she smiles. And then she hands Harry a glass of champagne.

 _This is it_ he thinks. _Do it now. Ask her._

Liam leans in and kisses him. He’s beyond thinking about what she tastes like, even when she tastes like fizzy, bubbly champagne with tiny berries in the flute. She tastes like all his favorite things. 

He kisses her back too hard and spills champagne on her lovely floaty dress. She makes a sad noise but he swallows it. Just once he wants to be the rockstar everyone thinks he is; he throws his glass of champagne on the floor and doesn’t even think about where it’s landed. He wraps both arms around her waist and lifts her up off the floor and walks her out to the balcony. There’s a little round table out there, with two elegant chairs around it, but he sits her on the table and slides his hands up under her thighs. 

The wind tugs at his hair, but she’s incredibly warm against him. “Last time we had sex on a balcony it went really badly,” she says, but she’s breathless and she sounds happy. 

“Won’t happen again,” Harry says. “I’ve taken precautions.”

“They’ve got them, what do you call ‘em, zoom lenses,” Liam says, but he kisses her neck and slides his fingers up to tease at the lacy edges of her knickers, and she giggles. “Right here?”

“Right here,” Harry says. “Then in the enormous bed. Then on the sofa. Then maybe in the convertible, baby. I’ll write a song about a hot girl and a fast car.”

“Louis and I’ll write a song about a car that’s a metaphor for sex,” Liam says. “And you’ll write something about clouds. Be serious.”

“I’m deadly serious,” Harry promises, waggling his eyebrows at her. She laughs again, so he slides her underwear down and rubs his thumb against her clit until her giggles turn in to soft, breathy moans. He slides a finger into her, just to the first knuckle, gentle and careful, pressing his finger and rubbing his thumb until she begins tilting her hips forward toward him.

Liam has her arms around his neck, and she pulls lightly on his hair. “Harry,” she says. “Oh, god, Harry. I want you to fuck me. Properly.”

Her breathy, deep voice saying naughty words has always been enough to get him blindingly hard. He doesn’t think that’s something he should say before he proposes, though. “Yeah,” he says. “Hang on a mo.”

“Now,” Liam complains, wrapping her feet around his back and pulling him in closer.

“Can’t undo my trousers if you do that, love,” Harry points out. He pretends to growl and bites her neck, and she giggles and bats at him. He has to step back a little to try and get the buttons undone on his very tight, slightly ridiculous trousers. Liam helps, but her little fingers just get in the way. He pretends to scowl and snap at her fingers, and she giggles again. 

He pulls off his shirt and wriggles out of his trousers and pants. “You’re dressed,” he complains.

“Hang on,” says Liam. She wiggles around and then kicks her knickers off. They land on the balcony, and Harry’s glad this one isn’t low enough for a fan to climb up. It’s one thing to find her pants flapping in the breeze, and something else to see the cute little lacy thong she wore just to take off. He’s figured out some of her tricks. She got them all from Zayn, anyway. “Not wearing a bra,” Liam says, with the cutest little naughty smirk. “And this dress is nothing, basically.”

“Too much,” Harry growls. The sea breeze feels weird ruffling his chest hair, but his cock quite likes being out in the air like this. He’s hard and he’s happy about it. Her dress is one of those halter affairs with no real back, so he can push it aside and nuzzle at her breast. 

“No,” Liam complains. “You’re meant to be fucking me now. Have you even got a condom?”

For just a moment he goes still. If they get married, she’s going to want kids. Loads of kids. She’s going to be the happiest, glowingest mum-to-be in the world. They’re going to fuck without condoms all the time. Three kids, Harry thinks wildly. No, six. No, fourteen. And an army of nannies that’ll put Brad and Angelina to shame, and Liam with those glowing pink cheeks of hers and sparkling eyes, all loved up and gorgeous, being called _mummy_.

“Harry,” says Liam. “Where did you go?”

Harry opens his mouth to say it, he’s really going to ask this time, when the breeze picks up and bangs the doors of the balcony shut. Liam shrieks and then giggles, clinging to him.

“Condom, right,” Harry says. He fishes through the pocket of his discarded trousers until he finds one. It’s weird, he thinks. Getting his girlfriend pregnant shouldn’t make him blindingly hard, but it has. He just wants to be inside her. Odd, he thinks, but no one who knows him would be surprised.

Liam hikes her long skirt up and guides him in with her hand, and he still loves the feel of her warm little fingers on his cock. “Sex on the beach,” Harry says. He braces himself against the table and Liam puts her legs around his waist again, pulling him closer. His hips stutter and start to thrust without him meaning to. But she feels so _good_. He can’t help it. 

“Sand in places,” says Liam, wrinkling up her nose.

“Warm sunshine on your bum,” Harry counters.

“Sunburns on your tits,” Liam argues. “Come on, babe. Faster.”

He doesn’t have to be asked twice, and he can’t argue and fuck her at the same time. He puts a hand on her hip and starts fucking her in earnest. The table makes a funny squeaking noise. Liam goes breathless again, panting in his ear.

“You aren’t gonna come like this,” Harry says. God knows he’s tried.

“Make it up to me later,” she says, and then bites his ear gently. Harry groans and thrusts harder. She presses her knees into his sides and tugs his hair again, kissing the side of his neck. 

He wants to make it last, but he’s pretty sure this is just round one for the evening. He gives up on trying to think unsexy thoughts, because he can’t manage it when his very sexy girlfriend is whispering, “I love the way you fuck me, babe.”

Harry comes with a groan and a shudder, and collapses against Liam. She pets his hair patiently until he can get himself together enough to pull out and roll the condom off. “Big beautiful bed,” he says. “Jet lag nap, and then I’ll eat you out for an hour. Sound good?”

“Carry me there,” says Liam brightly. She is never tired after sex, it’s not fair. 

“Yeah,” says Harry. It takes all his energy to pick her up, even with her clinging to his neck. He wants to hear that annoying post-sex chirping for the rest of his life. But he can’t ask her right now, because his brain is half off-line and anyway it’d be tacky.

\--

Liam has lunch with some cool L.A. hip hop producers. Harry doesn’t go. He gives a complicated excuse that he’s pretty sure Liam only listens to half of. One of the nice parts about having a reputation for rambling is he can ramble as much as he likes.

“Okay,” says Liam brightly. “See you later, then. I might meet Nicki Minaj today, Louis’s going to _die_!”

“Knock ‘em dead, champ,” says Harry. They have rather a lingering kiss goodbye and then she heads out.

Harry waits fifteen minutes to make sure she hasn’t forgotten something and then phones up her dad. He’s a lot less nervous calling Geoff than he is about asking Liam, funnily enough. Maybe because Liam’s mum has been jokingly calling him their son-in-law for a year now, since the whole thing with the paparazzi. Not very subtle, the Paynes. They wear their feelings on their sleeves.

“Harry!” says Geoff. “Everything okay in L.A.?”

“Yeah, cheers,” says Harry. “So, me and Liam are on holiday. It was a bit of a last minute thing, just wanted to spend some time with her, before tour gears up. You know, the last tour was a bit of a challenge, got quite homesick by the end of it.”

“Right,” says Geoff patiently. “Liam said.”

“I was thinking,” Harry says, drawing out his words a bit so he can phrase this just right. “Me and Liam, we’ve been together for a while now. And you know Liam, she’s quite family-oriented at heart. She’s that sort of girl, isn’t she?”

“Of course she is, she’s a good girl, Liam.”

Harry smiles. “Anyway, a year seems like a long time to stay together, and… Geoff, would it be alright with you if I asked her if she’d like to stay together a while longer? With a ring and all, I mean.”

Geoff breathes in sharply. Harry waits. There’s a pause, but it’s not scary, it’s just comfortable. When Geoff’s voice comes back it’s watery like he’s trying not cry. Harry smiles to himself.

“Oh, Harry. That’d be… God. You are a good lad, aren’t you?”

“Thought I should run it by you first, is all,” says Harry. “Liam’d like me to, I think.”

“We’d be proud to have you as a son-in-law,” says Geoff, definitely crying.

There’s a bit more. Harry talks for a bit about how nice L.A. is, and how chuffed Liam is to go to Disneyland. Geoff goes and calls Karen over and she cries on the phone with him a bit. He makes them promise not to tell Liam until he’s proposed and all. They make him promise that when they’re back in England for the first leg of the next tour they can have a party. 

When he’s finally done he spends a few minutes staring at the ring again, rubbing his thumb along the smooth edge and then the rough corners of the diamonds. She’s going to say yes, but he can hear Louis’s voice again in his head. “Do something _romantic_ , Harry.” 

The castle at Disneyland seems pretty romantic, Harry thinks. Fireworks and silly hats. 

\--

Zayn texts three times _well? xx_.

Louis calls and shouts, “Did you?” and then hangs up when Harry says no.

Niall tweets, “Waiting is the fucking worst !!!!”

“He’s excited about tour,” says Liam, checking her phone. She’s got Minnie Mouse ears on that Harry bought her, and she’s taken pictures with Snow White and Cinderella and Mulan. 

“Mmm,” says Harry, holding her hand. A couple of pre-teen girls have just spotted them and are quietly hyperventilating, pointing and shrieking into their hands. The sun is setting and the day has gone from uncomfortably warm to really lovely. 

“This is the nicest holiday,” says Liam. 

The ring is so heavy in Harry’s pocket. This, he thinks, is probably how Frodo felt, too. “Fireworks later,” says Harry.

Liam’s eyes light up. “Oh, that’s going to be amazing. I wish we were on holiday always.”

“No, you don’t,” says Harry fondly. “You’d be bored to death without tour.”

“Oh, I love tour, too. It’s like a holiday, sort of, in a way,” Liam says earnestly. 

“It’s like a _job_ ,” says Harry. “But a good sort of job.”

The pre-teens have worked up the nerve to walk over. “Hello,” says Liam cheerfully. Harry holds the phone and takes a selfie of the four of them and Liam gives them hugs. 

“I can’t believe we met you,” says one of the girls. She’s got braces and she looks like she’s might cry, so Harry gives her a hug. 

“Don’t post that picture for a couple of days,” says Liam. “Please? We’re just trying to have a quiet holiday. It’d mean the world to us if you’d wait.”

“Sure,” says the other girl. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t, but that’s alright. As long as they aren’t mobbed before he can ask Liam to marry him.

They wander around for a little longer – Harry’s got a Polaroid camera that was a present and he takes a load of pictures of Liam eating snack food on a stick and making faces at him. By the time the sun sets properly so the fireworks can begin he’s a little tired. His beloved brown boots are starting to rub just a little bit on his heel. 

Harry’s read a bunch of blogs about the best spots to watch the fireworks, but he decided he doesn’t want to stand around for hours waiting, not when him and Liam are likely to attract attention eventually. But there’s a restaurant where they can watch from the terrace and a fancy dinner sounds like a better way to propose than crammed in the middle of a load of strangers. 

“But there’s no music,” Liam complains. “And I can’t see Sleeping Beauty’s castle from there.” 

“Yeah, but…” Harry starts. He tries to think of a good reason they should go to dinner that he can tell her without spoiling the surprise.

“I want to see the fireworks from dead in the middle,” Liam says, with a stubborn set to her mouth. 

“Um,” says Harry. “But…” 

Liam crosses her arms. She’s still got her Minnie Mouse ears on, tilting down over one eye. “Proper fireworks, Harry,” she says.

“Okay,” says Harry. 

They stand in the middle of the crowd even though it makes their security crazy, and he keeps an arm around her waist while the fireworks go off. She’s so excited she’s jumping up and down and clapping, making little “ooh” and “look at that!” noises as they go off. As if she hasn’t seen them before. As if they don’t have fireworks in their own stage show.

“This is perfect, Harry, I love you,” she says, and kisses his cheek.

He doesn’t propose because he’s elbow-to-elbow with Preston and Paddy and anyway, she’s not looking at him. She’s looking at Sleeping Beauty’s castle and the sky, and her eyes are sparkling like anything. Harry kisses her cheek instead.

\--

"Love the fireworrrrrrrrrrks!!!" Liam tweets, with a bunch of fireworks emojis. "always so speciel"

She falls asleep on his shoulder on the way back to the hotel. Paddy gives Harry a look, clearly asking _Well? Get on with it, then!_ but Harry doesn’t want to wake her up just for that.

“This is harder than I thought,” Harry says. 

Paddy snorts. “Waiting for the perfect moment’s a fool’s errand,” he says. 

Harry shrugs, careful so he won’t wake Liam up. 

When they get back to the hotel Liam wakes up a little. “Let’s stay up and watch a film,” she says. “Can we cuddle on the sofa? Today has been so great, I don’t want it to be over.”

“Yeah,” says Harry. “You want me to order porn, right?”

She pretends to scowl and punch him in the shoulder. “You better not,” she says. 

“Guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” says Harry. He kicks off his boots and sprawls out on the sofa. Then he calls room service and orders nearly everything they’ve got. Liam goes to wash her face and put her hair up and whatever mysterious girly things she does before she can watch a film. 

The hotel pay-per-view movies are mostly disappointing, so Harry finds a kids’ film about rescuing dogs. Liam’ll like that, he thinks. Titanic would be better, or the Notebook, but he’s not quite rockstar enough to order a DVD and have it shipped to him special right then. 

Liam comes back out of the bathroom frowning at her phone. “Why has Louis texted me ‘What did you say?’ in all caps with seven question marks?” 

Harry’s heart skips a beat. “Oh,” he says. “Um. Louis’s crazy. Who knows?” His voice doesn’t sound right, though, and he’s sure suddenly she can see straight through him. She can see the outline of the ring pressed against his thigh in his jeans. His voice squeaks a bit when it shouldn’t, and fuck. Fuck. This isn’t how it’s meant to go. He sits up.

“Did I offend him?” Liam asks. “What did I say about what? I’m gonna call him—“

“No,” says Harry quickly. “Don’t do that. Just, um, come and sit next to me for a minute.”

The look Liam gives him is incredibly dubious. “Are you two scheming?” She sits next to Harry on the sofa, still frowning at her phone. “You can’t have pranks without me. It isn’t fair.”

“Liam,” says Harry, taking her hand. His is shaking, suddenly. This is so stupid, he tells himself. Liam’s the least scary girl he’s ever dated. She’s the easiest and the sweetest, and he just – he just doesn’t want it to be a letdown for her. He clears his throat. Then he takes her phone out of her hand so she’ll look at him and clears his throat again.

“What?” Liam asks. 

“I… I was wondering…” Harry starts. “Oh god, this was easier with your dad.”

She goes from curious to slightly horrified. “What have you been doing with my dad?”

“Oh, I called him to ask first, I thought you’d want me to. But it was easy with him, it was just… No pressure, but now it’s like I don’t know what to say, ‘cause I want it to be magical, you know? Really special. And this is an alright sofa, but is it magical? I dunno.”

Liam looks puzzled, then patient. Her face is such an open book. “Harry,” she says. “Start at the beginning.”

“Well, back at the beginning you asked me if I’d have sex with you,” Harry says. He allows himself a little sideways grin about it.

Her cheeks pink up. The hotel room is quiet and they haven’t turned on most of the lights yet. It’s shadowy and he can hear the ocean outside. “We made a list,” she says.

“Yeah,” he says. “It was wicked. Coolest girl I ever met.”

“No,” says Liam definitely. “That’s Zayn.” She smiles, though.

“This story’d be really long,” Harry says, “If I went through all of it. Oh hang on, can you wait until the champagne gets here? Then I can pop the question. Get it? Pop. Like—“

“Oh my _god_ ,” says Liam. Her eyes go huge. “Harry. Are you—“

She stops breathing. At least, it looks like she does.

Harry’s not sure what just happened. “Um,” he says. 

“Yes,” says Liam. “Yes,” she says again more definitely. “Yes, Harry. Yes! But you haven’t asked, you have to ask! Do it properly!” Her eyes are full of tears. “You called my dad? Oh, Harry. You’re the best boyfriend in the world, in the whole world.” She flings herself at him and hugs him so hard he can’t breathe.

“Well, I’m glad you think so,” Harry says.

“You didn’t ask me yet!” she says, suddenly scolding. She pushes him away. “Ask me!”

“You said yes, though,” Harry says.

She’s trying to frown at him, and smile, and cry, all at once. She points imperiously at the floor. 

Oh, Harry thinks. He gets down on one knee, but then his jeans are too tight to get the ring out of the pocket, so he has to stand up, and then get back on his knee again. Liam starts giggling. Well, giggling and sniffling. 

“Liam Payne,” Harry says.

She bursts into tears, proper ones.

“Don’t _cry_ ,” Harry says. “D’you not want me to, or—“

“Hurry up,” Liam says, hiccupping and sobbing. “So I can call my mum.”

Very weird, Harry thinks, but is too clever to say. He takes her hand and gives her his best sincere look. He’s been practicing in the mirror. “Liam,” he says. “I love you. D’you reckon we should get married?”

She starts laughing, but she’s still crying. “That was terrible, Harry,” she says, and then she kisses him. It’s shaky and frantic and he tries to get the ring on her finger but he can’t see while he’s kissing her. He has to stop kissing her to figure out which finger it goes on, even, and then she shrieks, clutching her hand. It’s a good shriek, he thinks. Probably. 

Liam kisses him again, harder. “I’ve got to call my mum,” she says. 

“She knows,” Harry argues, but Liam ignores him. She sits in his lap and dials and when her mum picks up – it’s the middle of the night in England, isn’t it? – whatever she says is too much crying for Harry to make out the words. Karen seems to know what she’s said, though. Harry puts an arm around Liam’s waist and takes a couple of selfies with his Polaroid camera. 

\--

Loads of phone calls. First to Karen, then to Harry’s mum, then to Louis to shout at him, then to Zayn to cry, then to Niall. Liam cries for what feels like a hundred hours, but she seems pretty pleased about everything.

Engagement sex, it turns out, is pretty great. They never get around to watching a film, but the sun is coming up over the ocean before they finally collapse into bed together. 

“I love you,” says Liam. “Harry, I love you so much.” She pauses to yawn. “I wonder what sort of party Louis’s going to throw?”

“Let’s think about that later,” says Harry. “For a couple more days you’re all mine.” 

“For more than a couple of days,” says Liam, with a funny little smile. She wiggles her fingers so the ring flashes in the light. “Forever.”

It’s warm right in the center of Harry’s chest. “Gonna write a song about your freckles,” says Harry. He kisses her nose.

“I’m gonna write a song about fireworks and the ocean and your eyes,” says Liam, and snuggles up against his shoulder.

\--

There’s no big announcement, just Harry on his instagram. He’s not trying to be funny or deep or obscure; he snaps a picture of Liam’s hand on top of his on the railing of the balcony. There’s a bit of ocean in the background, but he makes the picture black and white, so all anyone can really see is the skin of their hands touching, and the glittering outline of the ring.

He doesn’t give it a pun caption. Just this once, he thinks, it’s just exactly what it looks like.


End file.
